


Someone That Loves You

by Bianca_Loveless



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluffy Hollstein shit, Human AU, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:50:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9164878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bianca_Loveless/pseuds/Bianca_Loveless
Summary: Carmilla's content in her 'relationship' with Ell.Content, but far from happy.She desires a love that'll ignite her soul like a summertime bonfire, a girl that will breathe life into her hallowed bones and grant her the excitement and passion needed to bring colour to her black-and-white life.Or sex.Sex was definitely a priority this Friday night though because she'll probably burst if she doesn't get the physical attention she needs.She wasn't sure what to expect from the cute, doe-eyed stranger she gathered the courage to speak to on the train, but her conversation with a stranger turns into a night she'd never have imagined.And one she wishes she could forget.Hollstein train meet-cute based off of the music video for HONNE & Izzy Bizu's song 'Someone that Loves You'.





	1. Someone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nootvanlis (AKA wifey Gabi)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Nootvanlis+%28AKA+wifey+Gabi%29).



> The first two chapters are going to be kind of slow and [semi] heavy because of character development, so there's your forewarning. But I promise it'll get cuter and better.
> 
> 1\. [Coming Down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-fWo0czoHE) \-- The Weeknd

           An incessant, overbearing desire to be touched, felt—breathed in—was the driving force for trading the comfort of my warm yet lonely apartment, with the brisk, busy, and vociferous subway train station around me.  
**_Are you up?_**  
It was barely nine thirty when I had asked so I knew she was still awake, but I figured there needed to be some type of formality before my salacious proposal.  
**Yes love, of course. Need something?**  
I had stared blankly at the illuminating screen for about five minutes.

          Ell was the love of my life.  
Or at least, that’s what I had been told she should be.  
We weren’t lovers. Not officially.  
But the fact of the matter was that half of her wardrobe had made a home in my closet, and a good chunk of my toiletries had been left at hers.  
We weren’t lovers, but the amount of times I’ve pried my name out of her throat between the warmth of her bedsheets, from the comfort of her couch, the backseat of her car, her kitchen counter, her fucking mother’s house...all begged to differ.

 

          Outsiders looking in said she completed me, that I completed her.  
That we were two halves of the same whole, a couple orchestrated by fate and destined for holy matrimony, if only I could allow myself to relax and “let love run it’s course”.  
And I tried. I held her hand, I took her on dates, I spent odd number of hours with her when all I wanted was some alone time. I cherished her.  
But it was never enough.  
She _filled_ a hole.  
She was not the one that _kept me whole_.  
She filled pockets of silence when quiet was deafening, she filled the empty space in my bed when I couldn’t bear to be alone.  
She was a temporary fix that I tried to fall in love with.  
I tried every day.  
But I was once told that love isn’t something you “try”, it’s not a deliberate, well-invested blueprint of a plan you spend years creating.  
Love is something you do. Love is something that just...happens.  
So if we were fated to be, why hasn’t anything...happened?

          **The key is under the plant. Come.**  
I considered not going.  
More-so as a self-reassuring act of altruism—an unarticulated suggestion of “you deserve better”—than to combat any emotional damage on her end. Well, any more than already inflicted.  
But my mind had already danced upon dangerous territory; her chest against my own, the feel of her soft pale skin under my palms, a clenching between her thighs…  
I was dressed and out the door before I even had time to let the lusty thoughts subside.  
I hadn’t responded to her message. I rarely ever need to, for she had grown accustomed to the way my silence typically conveyed a course of action.

 

          By now, I’d been here fifteen minutes and my train wouldn’t arrive for another ten.  
That was always the problem: the wait.  
I was rather impatient—a creature lead by instincts, carnal desires, and emotional tug-of-wars; sitting on my hands and playing the waiting game wasn’t necessarily my strong suit.  
And the more I sat there, watching figure after figure whisk by me like ghosts en route to destinations unknown, even to them, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was it.  
If this was the life actually destined for me.  
A life lacking thrill, lacking impromptu excitements, lacking passion.  
A life lacking _love_.

          Was I predetermined to live a life of unfaltering content?  
Maybe that was my reason for never wanting to make things official with Ell, because I was absolutely terrified of giving into a fate—a destiny—that I never wished to claim as my own.  
I was terrified that this monotonous, mind-numbing relationship would eventually rewire everything that I was and rewrite my future to follow this same lackluster path.

 

          And it’s not like Ell was a particularly  _bad_ or _boring_ person.  
No, she had life growing out of every inch of her pores and a smile that could brighten a nation.  
She had a drive that inspired, a laugh that rang in your ears, an inner and outer beauty that radiated with every gentle breath she took.  
Ell loved everything and everyone with an intensity that could damn near be felt galaxies away, and goddamn did she fuck me like she intended to revive whatever pieces of my dying soul lingered inside of the empty shell of a girl that I was.  
Ell loved me.  
She took care of me. She was always there for me. We hardly ever argued seeing as we were both relatively low maintenance. The sex was revitalizing, the conversations hardly ever lacking depth.  
She was probably the actual embodiment of the ‘perfect lover’.

 

          But she wasn’t _for_ me.  
She was made for someone else.  
Someone that was fully capable of loving her in the way that she deserved.

          I’d tried to explain to her countless times before that she needed someone else—someone who didn’t treat her love like it was blasé—but she, like many of her friends and family, had refused to believe she was meant to love anyone else. She was convinced that our content was just something that happened when you’ve been in love with someone for so long.  
And I tried to believe her.  
I hoped that to be the case.  
I hoped that one day the passion would ignite like a plethora of fireworks and new beginnings on New Year’s.  
But I’d been sitting on my hands for too long waiting for the hope to manifest into a reality, and my patience had nearly been run thin.

 

          I wasn’t in love.  
Maybe I was never to fall in love.  
I was convinced there was something wrong with me—that something deep down was rendering me incapable of love and the feelings and ardor that came with it.  
I’d voice this to her if I didn’t already know her reply. Something along the lines of, “Everyone is capable of love, it just takes time and doing.” or “Carmilla, you’re brooding again, love. What can receive love is also capable of love.”  
She would never understand. And I could never make her.

          So for now, she was nothing more than a damn good fuck until either she realized she deserved more, or until the monotony would drive me insane enough to leave her be.  
That is, if my obsessive, compulsive desire for physical attention would ever allow me to unlatch from those thighs that kept me warm on cold, loveless nights.


	2. Whoever said it was easy must have had it pretty good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Carmilla spots a pretty girl on the train

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to still do the song suggestion thing but I can't remember the songs I listened to while writing this lol so here's some
> 
> 1\. [ Come As You Are (Cover)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0dwfRt8LcI&index=24&list=LLK8KAsYUSRwqUL5pNGSYiWg) \-- Yuna  
> 2\. [We've Never Met but, Can We Have Coffee or Something? ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0XZJ5mD6nSU&list=LLK8KAsYUSRwqUL5pNGSYiWg&index=25) \-- In Love With A Ghost

           The train came to a jolting halt in front of me and I waited for the exiting crowd to clear before slowly making my way into the still crowded train car.  
Of course there was no where to sit.  
Why so many people needed to travel at ten o’clock at night, I had no clue.  
Maybe they were all embarking on the same journey as I, looking to have a need fulfilled—an itch scratched.  
Either way it was entirely _too_ aggravating.

 

           I forced my way in-between a heavy set man and a dainty Asian woman to grab ahold of the closest available handle dangling from the ceiling of the car.  
Normally all I had to do was deliver a few debilitating glances and a pathway was cleared—a pro of my “ _intimidating ‘vampiric’ nature”_ as Ell had once described it—but seeing as neither participant was paying me any mind, I don’t think it would have worked all too well.  
An automated voice prompted that the train doors were closing and before long I was swayed forward with the train.  

  
           My stop and Ell’s stop were the furthest from each other, her stop being seven stops from mine. But my stop was the closest to the heart of the city a mere three stops away. The pedantic ride was about an hour long, but I typically kept myself entertained by analyzing passengers and creating stories for their lives, wondering what it was that brought them to this city in this specific train-car at this very moment.

 

           My first muse was a middle-aged black woman sitting three seats away from me with her teenage son. She was fiddling with her keys, either out of nervousness for utilizing public transportation or to fill the awkward silence she didn’t know how to shatter between herself and her quiescent son. I imagined she’d moved here for a job based on the many different keychains with various city names on them. I also imagined it was relatively rough on her son, moving from city-to-city like that. His disinterested face seemed to carry even _more_ anguish than a teenager his age should normally possess.  


           I assumed he’d stopped attempting to create friendships seeing as he never remained in one city long enough for them to manifest into anything lasting. I knew he was upset with his mother—both for the consistent moving and for the fact that he _couldn’t_ be mad at her for doing what she needed to do.  
And I was sure she felt her son’s bottled anger and dismay. I could see it on her face—she felt bad for what she was putting her son through. But she didn’t have a choice. She knew she was hurting her son and she didn’t know how to communicate with him.  
“You’ll make new friends”, “You’ll like this area better” and promises that “This is the last time” could only assuage the pain for so long until they became redundant, empty promises.

I wished the best for them.

 

           My eyes hungrily searched for another story to create, another life to analyze.  
A slight cough had filled the relatively silent train, causing my eyes to divert to the source of the noise. A red-headed gentleman sitting closest to the door I had entered from earlier was the source of the noise and he very quickly became my next target.  
He was dressed accordingly for the freezing winter, writing—or drawing maybe—in a little torn brown notebook.

  
           My imagination painted him to be a starving artist. I presumed he lived in a small studio apartment in the city, above like a flower shop or a café. He probably worked at whatever shop was under him, plus whatever other job he could manage to find. I assumed his art style was minimalistic, maybe abstract expressionism. It was always good enough to be featured in some low-down art gallery, but never enough to gain an abundance of attention. Maybe because of this, he felt as if he were not enough—that his talent was useless and that his folks were right; art was a hobby, not a job. I supposed this ate at him, presented itself in his art, although undetected by even the most esoteric of art fiends. His passion for his art probably lit his wick while all at once leaving him daubed with third degree burns.  
A tortured artist amongst the rest of us.  
I connected with him, envied him even, for having what I so desperately desired—a passion. Even if it was a passion that would ultimately lead to his downfall, I envied the mere fact that he had something worth fighting and trying for.  
Despite my jealousy, I still wished him an escape from himself and his alleged internal struggle,  and I hoped it came rather quick...before his expressionist art style could manifest into art brut—insane art.

The train came to a slow but jolting halt at the next stop before long and I tightened my grip on the handle to stop myself from catapulting into the Asian woman next to me.

           A handful of people left, including the woman and her son, and another handful of individuals wandered into the car.  
I wanted nothing more than to arrive at my destination already.  
I craved a spike in attention and excitement like a moth a flame, like a dog a bone. Even if it was a minor spike, a spike that would quickly falter soon-after—I just needed _something_ to make me feel less...hollowed.

The same prompting automated voice returned, the same train car doors shut, and the same jolting movement resumed my clichéd Friday night journey.

 

           My phone vibrated in my black leather jacket pocket and I was quick to remove it to interest myself in something else for a second.  
**Love I forgot...Will invited me over for a drink with him and his girlfriend. You’re welcome to come with, otherwise I will return in about an hour or so.** ****  
I felt my hands clench into a fist around my phone. As much as I _loved_ entertaining her snarky brother, this was just not a night I intended on sharing her with anyone else.  
**_You see him every week. Cold pass? Rain check?_ ** ****__  
Although I was highly irritated and utterly disappointed, somewhere deep down I couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved.  
A deviation from the norm, a release of bottled guilt.

 **You know I can’t cancel on Will, Carmilla. If anything they’d end up back at my place. I will try to leave early though. You haven’t boarded the train yet have you?  
** I shoved my phone back into my pocket in frustration.  
Suddenly I felt myself transform into the very creatures that I was analyzing; a ghost. A wanderer in a hurry to go nowhere, a path with no enriching end.  
It was disheartening, enraging even.

  
           I adjusted myself, now granted the room to, both of my hands tightening around the cold metal bar above my head.  
This was, of course, a depressing outcome, but I was trying my hand at being an optimist.  
Maybe my night didn’t have to end with me returning back to my apartment. The night was still very young and the city was still very much alive...  
This may have been a stretch, but what if this was it, my window of opportunity to escape the humdrum path that was set forth for me?  
It was a chance. The favourable juncture that I had been waiting for in order to take control of my own path—to create _my own_ destiny.  
Write _my own_ story.  


           How I was going to do so, however, was definitely a mystery.  
I mean in all honesty and setting all optimism aside, did I really believe I would be able to rewrite _an entire lifetime_ in just one night?  
It wasn’t like the city was peaking with _reasonable_ life-altering possibilities. At best, there were a ton of interim victories to obtain—trying my hand at poker, engaging in the fervid nightlife, bringing a pretty girl home for the night, drinking myself to a numbing, blissful state—but nothing that would completely change the course of my life for the better.  
My odds were very slim, but regardless, the gears in my head were rolling and optimism drowned out my veins like some type of poison.  
Something _was_ going to happen.  
And if not, I would make it happen.

 

           The train came to another stop, the distance between this stop and the last one being the closest to one another for the entirety of the trip. The next stop took twenty minutes to get to...which made me wonder if that was where I should get off.  
Downtown was a long ways out, but maybe I could entertain myself with whatever it had to offer me.  
I allowed an older gentleman to get around me so that him and his wife could get out of the train, which in turn permitted a large gap of emptiness in between me.  
Well, that was until a young Hispanic woman occupied the space directly next to me.  
And—oh yeah, _of course_ she just _had_ to be sick. This tiny individual was _actually_ hacking up a storm.  
I had half a mind to shove her, show her the _gigantic space_ that was there for her to happily hack away without infecting me.  


           The train doors closed yet again and the train began to move forward once again, causing the sick woman next to me to fling forward into me.  
I shut my eyes, attempting to calm myself down before filling the empty gap the ill woman refused to fill.  
Just as I did so, she adjusted herself so that she was in my previous spot, but she stood so broadly, her arms on the railing nearly grazing my own.  
I was sure my repugnance shone fairly brightly, for my eyes passed by a beautiful pair of brown doe-like eyes that seemed to be beaming at my discomfort.  
The girl was holding onto the same metal bar overhead a mere individual away from me, scanning me briskly before reverting her attention back to the train window.

  
           I had to adjust myself to get a good view of her, but the minimal effort bore a significant payoff. The girl that those dazzling pair of eyes belonged to had taken me aback for a brief moment.  
Voluminous light brown hair in a messy bun, a white smile that nearly left me blind from the half second that it was visible, a white beanie clutched in her hand that was around the metal pole next to her, and a jet black bomber jacket with a contrasting white hoodie that complimented her fair skin quite nicely.  
I hadn’t realized I was staring until we made eye contact yet again, but this time was no longer than the last for she was quick to shy away from my gaze yet again.  


           ...Was this my open door?  
This beautiful girl...could she be the ticket to my escape? The author to a new chapter of my life? Or was she just one of the city’s temporary coups?  
Could I just be romanticizing this simple encounter?  
I had questioned myself into a rut and I wasn’t really sure of anything at that moment.

           The possibility that my desire for excitement had caused me to place my entire future in the hands of a girl I made fucking _eye contact_ with was all too pathetic.  
I wasn’t like this...I didn’t think this way.  
This wasn’t me.  
Or—was it?

  
           I ran a hand through my hair in frustration and decided to refocus my interest on the passing view.  
The outside world shifted from quick moving lights, to buildings, to sights, to black and then back to quick moving lights, buildings, and to sights again. It was a reminder that what was occurring in this train, in this head of mine, wasn’t at the centre of it all.  
It was a reminder that I still had a world that I could return back to—even if it was a world that lacked colour, it was a world that was still available to me.  
Although it was supposed to be a comforting fact, it sure as hell did a lot more stressing than assuaging.  
I was beginning to complicate things again, my head running a muck.  
All the while my heart was voicing its opinion loudly in my chest: _Do it. Do it. Do it._  


An inaudible sigh escaped my heavy lungs before I craned my neck back in her direction.  
Just as soon as I turned, she snapped her head down. Her eyes began to examine the floor as if it were the most attention-grabbing aspect of a train car full of people.  
I couldn’t help but smile.  
This may have been nothing, this may have been my pathetic way of searching for a divergent, she may have been nothing more than an empty conversation on a late Friday night...she may just as well end up being nothing more than a fling by the end of tonight, but if I was going to play the part of an optimistic escapist, I was going to commit.  
This was going to happen.  
_She_ was going to happen.

           Heart pounding, brain rattling, skin tightening, I leapt.

  
(Figuratively of course. In reality I swiftly made my way over to her.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, I was afraid of writing Carmilla's character this way because I was afraid of how the fandom would take her brooding and calculating, chaotic mindset. Which is what she's always had, but we never get to see it in the series because it just seems like Laura caused it to dissipate. But in reality, love doesn't automatically rid of internal turmoil. It silences it for a minute maybe, but it's always there. And I feel like in the series, Carmilla's internal chaos has been silenced by Laura's love, which doesn't happen to often. And I don't like that she just loses the brooding, pondering aspect of her although most people like it because, well, Hollstein lol.  
> So the first two chapters, although short, were the easiest to write for me because I relate to them in many ways, and I enjoyed being inside Carmilla's head. 
> 
> Also, this story is completely different from the ones I typically write (it's not just sexsexsex), so those of y'all that are used to sex every chapter, you should probably read my [Hollstein Sex Compilation](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7675561/chapters/17482357) because this is more of a slow burn fic.
> 
> Anyway, I'm currently working on the third chapter. I'm half way through it and I'm getting my wisdom teeth pulled tomorrow, meaning I'll be at home in bed the rest of this week to continue this fic <3


	3. Tell Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Carmilla & the cute girl speak to one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So HELLA special shoutout to [Monica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/2edge4u/pseuds/2edge4u) [(2edge4u](http://2edge4u.tumblr.com/) on tumblr) because she helped me out A LOT with this chapter.  
> I had terrible writers block, sent her what I had of this chapter so far, & she shot back some ideas-which is literally what kept this chapter rolling.  
> She's awesome and has super cute Hollstein fics that you should read, &/or she's also an amazing person you should strike a conversation with on tumblr. u won't be disappointed :3
> 
> This one is less angsty but it's also v short 3: but enjoy nonetheless!
> 
> Songs:
> 
> 1.[Debris](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z6daiLDhU4w)\-- Uh Huh Her  
> 2\. [Easy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yRyMoyRPrr8&index=3&list=LLK8KAsYUSRwqUL5pNGSYiWg)\-- Son Lux  
> 3\. [On Directing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3PcVHDZZquI) \-- Tegan and Sara  
> 4\. [What if I Go?](https://youtu.be/pLuQ0MGLBXU?t=6s)\-- Mura Masa

        Any words that were hanging frantically at the corner of my lips had chased themselves back down into my throat the second I was close to her.  
Her enchanting beauty resonated so intensely that I was rendered speechless, completely taken aback.  
She looked up at me slightly, smiling sheepishly before sliding over and allowing me some room next to her.  
I tried to say something...anything. But the words had retired back into my lungs to allow my other senses a chance to appreciate the beauty next to me.  
My mind had wandered yet again and I couldn’t get it to refocus. It was as if her close proximity had installed some type of virus into my mind, rescripting my normal human functions and replacing them with thoughts, feelings, visions, emotions, eyes only for _her, her, her_ .

        I had imagined—no, _seen_ her light brown hair sprawled out against my black sheets as if we were tucked away in my apartment room right this second. I watched myself snake my fingers into her soft hair, appreciating the soft, silky texture of it. I saw myself falling victim to her soft embrace as she placed herself on top of me, her beautiful hair caging me in as if to force me to look only at her.  
I felt her warm, smooth skin as my hand inched down her chest and continued it’s path even lower...  
Whatever scent was coming off of her was enthralling—trapping me into this headfuck of she, of us…of whatever the hell was going on in my head.  
This didn’t feel like lust—no, lust had been my sofa; I _knew_ that feeling all too well. This was a foreign feeling and it was exciting yet frightening and odd and...  
“Uhm...are—are you...okay?”

        Her puny voice had snapped me back into the subway train car, reminding me that, despite the visions painting her—painting _us_ —to be something more, she was a mere stranger amongst the lot of them surrounding us.  
I blinked a few times and realized that those two beautiful hazel eyes were watching my brown ones quizzically.  
I adjusted myself immediately, clearing my throat—and my head—before giving her a response. “Yeah—yeah. I was just...can I stand here? I’m trying to avoid catching the plague back over there,” I beckoned towards my previous spot where the sick woman was still standing broadly.    
“Uhm—Yeah of course...I just—was wondering because you’re—staring at me...like there’s something on my face?  Is—is there something on my face??” the small individual’s eyes widened as she began to rub some invisible stain off of her cheeks.  
Had I been staring? I hadn’t even realized.  
Smooth, Karnstein, smooth.

        “Sorry I—I guess I just couldn’t help myself. I tend to have this problem where I stare at really beautiful strangers. You’ll have to excuse me, though. Normally I realize I’m staring and I catcht myself. But this time...well, I’ve never came across a girl as beautiful as yourself and I hadn’t even realized I’d been staring.” I half smiled, reaching above me to hold onto the metal bar overhead.  
Her facial expression quickly bounced from confusion, then to flattery, and finally ended with some type of confused-flattered-shy type of look? I don’t know what it was, but it was damn adorable on her.  
Blood began to rush to her cheeks and I couldn’t stop the— _overly optimistic_ part of my mind from imagining the other things I could do that would leave her face just as flushed…  
“Oh...Well—I am...most certainly flattered. Thank you uh—” she stammered, her eyes shying away from mine again.  
“Carmilla. Carmilla Karnstein.”

        “Carmilla. Yes—thank you, Car-Carmilla.” she extended her hand out to me to perform what I assumed was to be a very awkward yet cordial introduction.  
I swiftly brought our hands together and twisted her wrist before bringing her soft hand up to my lips and placing a gentle kiss upon it. “The pleasure’s all mine, cutie.”  
And I thought her face was red before.  
“Oh,” her other hand rising to conceal her red cheeks, “Very, uh—18th century notion of chivalry. And, uhm, it’s _Laura_ by the way. Laura Hollis.” the words fumbled out of her mouth and she readjusted our hands to give me a firm handshake.  
Another smile formed on my lips, “Postmodern chivalry isn’t _completely_ dead yet, buttercup. Besides, this is the appropriate way to greet a girl as _royally attractive_ as yourself.”  
She scoffed a laugh as she retracted her soft hand from my own and switched the beanie in one of her hands to the other.

        “Don’t you think you might be overdoing it _just_ a little bit?” Laura teased, her eyes playful against my own.  
“Nonsense. I was thinking I hadn’t come on strong enough. I even prepared an entirely too sweet and frothy monologue to sweep you off your feet.” I sarcastically mused.  
She was smiling shyly, a good indicator that my jests were working. Our eye contact had gone unbroken, another sign indicating that she was slowly letting down her façade of passivity.  
Laura chuckled, holding onto the metal pole next to her with the hand she’d used to shake my own with.  
“You can save your poetic wiles, Sylvia Plath and I’ll raise you an option better: an actual _normal_ human conversation, with a pleasant lack of _flattering_ yet totally unnecessary compliments.” her eyes scanned me curiously and my eyes did the same to her, “I mean since we _are_ going to be here for a while and—uh...well— you _did_ put together this whole spiel to, I assume, squeeze a conversation out of me. So we might as well—talk.”

        Everything about her was enticing; her soft looking hair, her vibrant, bubbly, adorably awkward nature, her friendly eyes, her warm, blinding smile. I couldn’t muster whether or not the alluring scent leaving her being was a natural scent or some type of perfume, but either way it was knocking me _on my ass_ . I wanted to absorb her, drown in her smell, her smile, her eyes…  
And I know I was still overdoing it and _probably_ romanticizing the literal _hell_ out of this encounter, but I couldn’t help myself. She was just so goddamn beautiful.

  
        “Hardly a ‘spiel’, cutie. More-so an overly ambitious attempt to get the beautiful girl making side glances at me to tell me more about herself. Which seems to be working.” I took a step closer to her and she stiffened, her cheeks proving that they could be shades redder than they were previously.  
“But yes, let’s converse then, shall we? Tell me, what is a girl like yourself doing on this lonely Friday night?”  
Laura bit her lip, her eyes wandering for a second before speaking, “Heading home, I guess. I was supposed to go to an arcade downtown with a...friend—but they picked up the stomach flu and had to cancel. I was super pumped too. I haven’t been to an arcade in _years_. I even pre-packed an old game card with credits and everything. But oh well. I mean, there’s always tomorrow. My dad always told me to make the best out of bad situations. Not that this was a relatively _terrible_ situation, there’s a lot of other things that could have gone wrong tonight...but it’s not really something that I planned for, you know. So I’ll probably just catch up on my Netflix shows at home to make up for it.”

        _Goddamn_ could she talk. She spoke a mile a minute, making hand gestures and scrunched up faces as she did so. I don’t even think she stopped to take a breath.  
The information she just provided took a minute to register, what, with it coming at me a tad faster than I could actually comprehend. When her words finished rendering, however, I realized this could have been an open window.  
Her loss of enthusiasm when explaining her arcade plans getting canceled served more as an opportunity for me to extend this conversation with a stranger on a Friday night into something more.  
Although, video games didn’t necessarily peak my interest, nor have I ever played any (except for the one time Will had forced me to play some VR zombie killing game—which I’ll admit was kind of fun).  
And who was to say she’d actually agree to such a proposal—me, a complete stranger, taking her to an arcade in the middle of the city on a Friday night.

        The more I thought about it, the more it sounded like a sappy music video concept, which sounded a little too light and frothy for me.  
...But at the same time, I wanted _more_ of this girl.  
I wanted to surround myself with her, see her in a light darker than anyone on this train would ever see her; _touch_ and _be touched_ by her—even if just for a few minutes.  
My curiosities as to what she felt like and what she tasted like needed to be met, or I don't think I'd ever let myself live it down.  
Meaning I guess tonight was going to be the night that exceptions were going to have to be made.

  
        “The stomach flu? Really? At nearly ten thirty on a Friday night?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow.  
I didn't know may individuals who suffered from spontaneous cases of the stomach flu on a _Friday night_. Either I needed more friends (which was probably true either way) or this ‘friend’ of hers had other things planned for their night...  
Her eyes dropped before re-scanning mine.  
“Well...yeah. She said—she’d picked up some bad sushi and that we’d need to reschedule. But...come to think of it, I don't remember her ever mentioning that she was going out for sushi..." Her voice trailed and she looked up worriedly. I think she noticed my concerned expression because she quickly jeered back onto topic, "Anyway, normally I guess I wouldn’t have minded a reschedule...but I had already taken the train to her stop. But—I mean, it’s not like it’s necessarily her fault...no one really _plans_ to get food poisoning. I was just glad my friend LaFontaine lived around the area because it would have been more upsetting if I’d had to take the train all the way back home after just arriving. So I stayed at their house for a couple of hours. We were playing all types of board games and having conversations about science-y stuff. Well, the conversations were mostly one-sided because I usually just listen to them talk about that stuff because I know like _nothing_ about science compared to them. One time they even—”

 

        Typically, girls that talked my ear off were _immediately_ placed onto my “hell no” list, just because having or listening to conversations was both mentally and physically draining, as well as irksome for me.  
Not to say that I wasn’t _slightly_ annoyed by Laura’s persistent badgering...because, in all honesty, I was.  
But not to the extent at which I would normally be.  
Which was... _odd_.  
Any other girl, any other night, I’d have begrudgingly thanked her for the conversation and escaped to another train car.  
But tonight…with Laura...  
There was something in me that actually _wanted_ to indulge her in her long drawls. Although it was a little overwhelming and slightly irritating, I didn’t mind.  
And that scared me slightly, because I wasn’t sure if my tolerance was due to my current incessant yearning for sex, or if it was because of...well...her.

  
No...I knew absolutely nothing about her...it _had_ to be the first one.

  
  
        “S-sorry...I’m probably babbling. I do that sometimes.” My jeering thoughts were suddenly interrupted by her apologetic tone.  
I’m guessing she noticed my lack of eye contact and awkward shuffling.  
“But uhm...what about you? What are you up to tonight?” her face lighting up as she asked me.  
_Damn her adorable smile._  
I shoved both of my hands into my pockets--my arms tired from having been up in the air so long--and looked down at the floor as I spoke, “Well like you, I also had someone cancel on me. And I was also already on the train upon them...flaking out.”  
Laura absentmindedly removed the rubber band keeping her hair in a bun and raked her fingers through her long hair—an action that was _a lot_ sexier than it probably should have been.  
“Guess it’s just that kind of night, huh? Well…” she shoved her white beanie into her bomber jacket pocket, the furry pom of it sticking outside, “What was your backup plan?”

 

        I shrugged, “I’m not too sure I had one. But now I'm contemplating on whether or not it’d be a good idea for me to take this really adorable complete stranger out to an arcade.”  
Her cheeks pinkened and she let out a silent giggle.  
“What do you think? For all I know, she could be some type of serial killer with an unquenchable thirst for blood. But, she’s also  _extremely_ adorable. I don't know, is it a risk worth taking?” I leaned against the pole she was holding, leaving our faces a few inches a part.  
Laura, of course, stepped back and attempted to hide her blushing cheeks by making eye contact with the floor.  
“Uhm—I...I don’t know. That sorta depends on you. But I mean she _does_ want to go to an arcade, and those are like _super_ sketch and dangerous. _All_ the serial killers go there.” she bit her smiling lip and gave me a glance that I swear to God _had_ to be drenched with some type of a lusty undertone.

 

        The grin that formed across my lips was teasing, maybe a hint lecherous.  
“Mm, you know, you’re right. She could be leading me into a trap. Maybe it’s best I sit this one out.” I inched myself the other direction smugly as I taunted her with the concept of leaving.  
“BUT,” I suddenly felt her hand clasp around my arm and tug me back in her direction slightly, “If you leave, you’ll never know if she actually _was_ a serial killer or if she was just a regular girl who _really_ enjoys arcades, and is _that_ really a risk you’d like to take?” Her tone was playful, but her eyes seemed to beckon to me, a thin layer of desperation slicked across them.     
How could I say no to that face?

 

        I felt my phone vibrate against my hand in my jacket pocket.  
It was probably Elle checking up on me, apologizing for canceling, asking me where I was. One of the above.  
I removed it from my pocket and read what little of the message my phone permitted me to see:  
**Love, are you there? Please don’t be upset with me, I'm about to leave if you'd like to...**  
The impulse to roll my eyes back into my head was hard to fight, but somehow I overcame it.  
“Well in that case…” I locked my phone and slid it back into my pocket—away and forgotten—before looking up at her, a smug smile glued to my lips.

  
“Which arcade are we off to, creampuff?”


	4. Next Level

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Carmilla & Laura go to the arcade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A BIG thank you to my beta [Diaphanousoverture](http://diaphanousoverture.tumblr.com/) she's so fucking talented and awesome & like amazing show her some love
> 
> 1.[The City](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UuihJInaeN4)\-- The 1975  
> 2.[Rewind](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=py6PgXq0yDM)\-- Kelela  
> 3.[Someone out of Town](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8hTKHS3wOgY)\-- Yuna

        The crisp air scratched at the surface of any and all of my exposed skin, immediately causing me to regret not bringing a jacket with a hood or a hat of some sort.  
Laura’s teeth chattered as she began to rub her hands together.  
“Ooo...kinda chilly.” she remarked, removing the white beanie from her pocket and placing it comfortably onto her head.

 

        The remaining fifteen minutes of our train ride had been full of blatant flirting—more-so on my end—and strangers gazing upon us in annoyance and/or disgust.  
I didn’t mind. Public castigation and disapproving side-eyes were definitely no strangers to me. Although, I was normally rewarded with non-verbal scolding for acts I’ve committed that were either lewd or rude, never for something as innocent as back-and-forth flirtatious verbose.  
It bothered Laura, however. It bothered her to the point that the remainder of our conversations on the train were practically whispers (which made it all the more difficult to understand her whenever she’d go off on a long tangent or two) and the colouration of her face didn’t veer too far from red or pink until we’d gotten off.

 

        I was assuming the little cupcake wasn’t used to the attention due to the way she reacted; both kinds of attention, that is—the attention I provided her and the negative attention a few passengers paid her.  
Whenever I’d so much as mention the beauty of her likeness, her cheeks turned pink and she’d begin to flail her arms as if to divert attention from herself—which then gathered the attention of the other passengers, resulting in her pink cheeks burning to a bright red.  
I probably shouldn’t have been as entertained with the whole ordeal as I had been.

 

 

        We were currently standing at a four-way intersection, waiting impatiently for the light to change so that we could scurry across the street.  
The city around us was almost as bright and full of life as the little cupcake next to me—people moving to and fro, bright lights illuminating all over the place, conversations and laughter occupying every pocket of silence the night sky offered.  
For some unexplainable reason it felt uplifting...freeing.  
A feeling I had never once felt before.

 

 

        I had gotten so lost in the lights and tall buildings around me that I had forgotten the reason I was here at the heart of the city in the first place.  
That was, until I was being dragged across the street from my elbow by said reason.  
“Come onnnn slowpoke, before the light changes again!” Laura ushered, a playful grin plastered onto her face.  
I couldn’t help but smile back, allowing myself to be dragged a little while longer before walking on my own.  
She walked at a faster pace in front of me and I attempted to keep up, trying not to get _too_ lost in the hype of the night.  
“You sure you know where you’re going?” I questioned, eyebrow raised at a sudden unexpected turn she made.

 

 

        “Yes...I just—got a little turned around for a second...that’s all. I am one-hundred percent _totally_ confident in where we’re going.” her tone trailed and she whipped her phone out.  
I scoffed out a laugh, “Riiight... _why ever would I be worried_ ?”  
Downtown wasn’t an area I spent a lot of my time—come to think of it, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually been downtown just by myself—but I recognized the area. We were about a block away from the busiest part of downtown called the Centre.  
It was exactly what it sounded like, the centre of the the city jampacked with tons of restaurants, shopping outlets, bars, clubs, _people_ .  
Ell had a knack for finding vintage antique stores and she’d drag me out here once or twice every few weeks to visit old ones or to discover some new ones.  
I knew the Centre fairly well, so at least if her arcade plot was a bust, we’d still have access to other things.

 

 

        Apparently I hadn’t been paying much attention because I hadn’t even noticed that Laura had stopped right in front of me until I collided with her back.  
“Whoa...sorry.” I apologized, catching myself before I could fall on top of her.  
Laura, however, remained unfazed and was looking at the screen on her phone intently.  
“Okay so according to Google, it should be down this street and to the left.” she stated matter-of-factly before continuing forward.  
For a little ball of fluff she was pretty tough.

 

 

        “You sure this time Sacagawea?” I teased, trailing her.  
She looked back at me but continued her forward plight, “O Ye of little faith. Don’t be afraid _now_.”  
I swiftly dodged a group of men that didn’t understand the concept of limitations a sidewalk offered for passer byers before trailing behind her again and toothing, “Oh, don’t mind me, cupcake...” I watched the way her hips swayed as she walked, appreciating the tight fit of her jeans at her ass, “I’m just enjoying the view.”

I didn’t even have to see her face to know she’d rolled her eyes.

 

 

        Before long we were standing in front of a building with a large red illuminating sign that read ‘ **Next Level** ’.  
We were still about a block—give or take—from the Centre and this area I had, admittedly, never been to.  
“This is it.” Laura smiled, gazing up at the sign.  
I looked up at it too, admiring the retro font and brightly illuminating letters. The building looked brand new, but the letters on the sign showed signs of time-worn erosion.

 

        My eyes quickly grew bored of the sight and I suddenly found myself admiring the stranger I had come here with.  
The light from the sign highlighted her face in a way that emphasized her perfect facial structure.  
She was practically glowing, becoming one with the aesthetic of the night.  
Or better yet, the night was adding to the aesthetic that _was_ this beautiful stranger.  
I’d like to believe I could have stared at her forever in this light. I half believed that there couldn’t have been any other site that would even be _nearly_ as beautiful as she was in this moment.

 

        .. _.What was I saying?_  
Sure she was beautiful and adorable...and had a smile that could warm even the coldest of hearts...and eyes so lovely and piercing that you never really did mind when they were drilling into you...  
Shit, I was _too_ fucking attracted to her.  
But this couldn’t solely be attraction. I mean... I was attracted to Ell, but never have I spoken of her in this manner. Come to think of it, I’d never thought this way about...well...anyone.  
_What in the living hell was she doing to me?_

 

 

        Suddenly those soft doe-eyes had met my cold ones and her smile widened.  
“Come on, let’s go!” she ushered excitedly, grabbing ahold of my arm yet again as she dragged me into the arcade.  
The grabbing and pulling was a bit of a bother, but not enough to the point that I’d call her out on it.  
If anything it suited her; made up her overly excited, bubbly personality.  
So I _guess_ I would let it slide.

 

 

        The inside of the arcade looked nothing as I expected it to.  
For one it was dark, but the walls were lined with black lights and the floor under us was glowing with stars and various brightly coloured planets.  
And despite it being practically eleven o’clock at night, the arcade was loud and had a decent amount of individuals running around inside of it.  
The building was fairly spacious from what I could tell. There were so many games and flashing lights and noises cluttering together all at once that I couldn’t even hear myself think.  
This was _definitely_ different from what I was used to.

 

 

        “Wow…” Laura’s grip on my elbow dropped back down to her side, “It’s so much more different than I remember.”  
We walked past what I assumed was the prize centre (with the attending employee looking as if he were half asleep), made our way down three little steps, and stepped into the pit that all of the games were in.  
Laura walked by every game in awe, her little mouth gaping and her ecstatic eyes searching.  
She was so entranced by everything that it brought me joy just seeing the wonder and glee plastered onto her face.  
“Ooo! You know what we _have_ to play? Skeeball! ...Oh and air hockey! Ooo yeah! Let’s play air hockey! And...wait a minute...what if that Resident Evil video game is still here! Oh we have to play that too we just—”  
I chuckled at her excitement and gently placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her down.  
It seemed to bring her back to reality because she was looking at me now, the smile on her face engrained.  
“Whoa there, Sonic. We can play whatever game you want, but we can only play them _one at a time_.”   

 

 

        She shook her head slightly, “You’re right. Sorry I’m just _uber_ excited!”  
Her smile was infectious, I couldn’t stop myself from grinning along with her.  
“Yeah, I noticed. Look your skeeball machine is over there, let’s start there.” I beckoned towards the wall parallel to us.  
“Okay!”

 

 

***

 

 

        I’d never played skeeball before but I’d seen quite a few people play it on television or in a movie so I had a fairly basic grasp of the concept...  
Or so I thought.  
It was _a lot_ harder to get the ball to go into the 1,000 point hole than I had planned, but for Laura it was like nothing. I was struggling just to get the heavy balls into anything but the 10 point hole, but Laura had them going all over the place with ease.  
My competitive nature had shown through a bit and she had to stop me numerous times from simply lodging it into the hole.

 

        The next game we played I at least had a _little_ experience with. It was that Resident Evil game she had been speaking of, and I liked this one _much_ more than that VR zombie killing game.  
My skills were still lacking, however because I kept losing lives, and Laura kept having to re-swipe me back into the game.  
In my defense, my gun’s reloading sensor wasn’t registering my off screen movement, resulting in me getting eaten by the zombies.  
After being swiped a third time (and then dying again), I’d suggested we played something less credit draining.  
“Air hockey! Hurry before someone takes it!” her enraptured voice rang in my ears as she ran past me to head towards the hockey table.  
“Laura, slow down before you run into someone!” I called after her, picking up my speed slightly to keep up.  
She, of course, didn’t and nearly clotheslined this young couple that was playing each other at Guitar Hero.  
I apologized for her and quickly made my way over to one of the three hockey tables that she was at.

 

        “It’s a shock you haven’t managed to hurt yourself yet.”  
She swiped the game card at the air hockey table and suddenly the slider at my end of the table was gravitating towards the clear plastic divider in the middle.  
I stretched across the table to grab it just as Laura placed the puck onto the table and took hold of her own slider.  
“Oh yeah, well I’m about to hurt _you_ because you’re going _down_ Karnstein.” her voice took on this playful macho tone that was entirely too cute for me to handle at the moment.  
I lifted an eyebrow. She was making it _too easy_ to flirt with her.  
“Well if I’m going down on you, I can’t say I’d mind.” I smirked, positioning my slider in front of the slit designated for the puck to enter through.  
She giggled and rolled her eyes, “Flirting won’t make me go any easier on you!”  
With that, she slammed her slider against the glowing green puck and it bounced off the walls of the table.

 

        Somehow the puck had slipped right by my slider and went straight into my slit at an angle.  
The score at the top of the table changed from 0 0 to 0 1.  
“Ha!” She boasted, a smug smile tightening across her face.  
I bent over to pick up the puck and placed it back onto the table.  
“You got lucky.” I rolled my eyes, my competitive mode slowly phasing in.  
“Psh,” Laura positioned her slider carefully in front of her slit, “This is pure skill. No such thing as luck.”  
My eyes began to calculate the best route to hit the puck to get it into the hole. The slits weren’t congruent, so even when you were perfectly in the middle, one side was still more available than the other. Right now, Laura’s left side was more exposed than her right, so I figured if I bounced it to the right, it’d ricochet and slide into the left slit opening.  
Without any further computation, I hit the puck, causing it to do exactly what I wanted it to.

 

 

        I crossed my arms and rose an eyebrow smugly at her, “Skill, eh?”  
She scowled as she went to pick up the puck again.  
“Beginners luck.” she spat.  
Laura didn’t even give me a chance to reposition myself before she sat the puck down and smacked it straight into my slit, changing the score to 1 2.  
“Wha—tha—that was _completely_ cheating. You di—you didn’t even give me a chance to get ready!” I complained before getting the puck.  
She flipped her hair before resuming her protective stance again. “You snooze you lose.”  
I laughed humorlessly, “Oh, oh you’re getting it now, Hollis.”

 

        The game was intense.  
Neither of us wanted to admit defeat, and we’d both gotten pretty good at working our way around the lack of congruence problem when defending our goals. A few times we’d hit the puck so hard that it flew off the table, other times we didn’t hit it hard enough and it floated in the middle, but for the most part the puck was aggressively flowing back and forth between our sliders.  
One thing I noticed that we both were really good at was talking smack.  
Several varying forms of “What was that?” and, “You call that a technique?” and even, “My grandmother could do better than that!” had surfaced throughout the game.  
In a very, very odd way, her trash talk turned me onto her more...it presented a contrasting spice to her seemingly soft and sugary attitude.  
And I always enjoyed my women with a little flavour.

 

 

        Currently the score was 6 and 6, only one more goal until someone won, and I was determined as hell to be that someone.  
Somewhere along the line we had attracted a small crowd of looky-loos that were admiring our game. Most of them were teenage boys or creepy looking men, but, for the most part, their eyes were glued to the game.  
“You should give up now, Hollis, so I don’t make you look bad in front of all these people.” I taunted, rolling up my black sleeves.  
I had discarded my jacket midway, the intensity of the game heating me up. Laura had done the same and tossed her beanie onto the floor with it. Her loss of a layer was what had costed me a point.  
She was wearing a gray turtleneck, sleeveless crop-top...and by God did she look amazing.  
Her arms were perfectly toned—muscle and all, and her crop top teased by revealing a slither of her toned abs.  
It unquestionably captured my attention, and probably the attention of half of the occupants surrounding our table.

 

 

        Laura tucked her hair behind her ear and gazed at me fiercely.  
“The only one that’s going to look bad is you after I take you _down_ . Come on.” She rushed, pure focus embedded in her brow.  
My eyes worked out another route to take, my brain spun attempting to figure out a new technique she hadn’t grown accustom to.  
I _was_ going to win; no if’s and’s or but’s about it.  
I took note that Laura’s left side was left open a little bit again and decided I’d mislead her to think that her right side was open by aiming for that side, and once the puck returned to me, I’d quickly slam it into the left one.  
This was going to be fun.  
“I’m getting old here!” she impatiently sighed.  
I smirked, “Gotcha, cutie.”  
And with that, I put my plan into action.

 

 

        The trick had worked and she’d covered her right side more, but she ended up catching the puck with her slider (and not her hand like I had done once and got a tasteful chewing out by the little cupcake).  
“Shit.” I muttered under my breath.  
The creampuff held the puck for a moment, her eyes calculating just as mine had, before she smacked it. The puck was going extremely fast, hitting either wall of the table, inching closer and closer to me.  
I held my breath, hoping I’d be able to catch it at just the right moment.  
Everyone around us watched silently, their gazes transfixed on the moving puck.  
Just as the puck ricocheted towards my slit, I stamped my slider on top of it, stopping it just inches before it slid into my goal.  
“Dammit!” Laura growled.

 

 

        I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and so did a few people surrounding me.  
Repositioning the puck, I continued with my plan and roughly hit the puck towards the left side of her goal.  
Suddenly that satisfying noise of the puck sliding into the goal echoed in my ears and the scoreboard had changed from 6 6 to 7 6.  
I won.  
“Oh yeah!” I cheered, throwing my arms and the slider up in victory.  
The crowd around us began to clap, most of them dispersing while a few of them mosied over to the remaining two hockey tables.  
“I am the champion!” I sang, my hips swaying slightly.  
It was odd, because along with my victory came an unadulterated rush.  
It was… a foreign feeling.  
Never had I been granted a surge of energy for something so simple and innocent.  
I was kind of _really_ enjoying it.

 

 

        ...that was until I caught glimpse of Laura’s face.  
She looked defeated, her lip poking out in a pout and her eyes, once full of so much ardor and joy, now looking drained of it’s life.  
The amazing rush quickly generated into a pestering pain in my stomach.  
I picked up my jacket and went around to her, “Hey, don’t be sad now. It was a good game.”  
Laura huffed out a sigh, “I guess.”  
Seeing as she didn’t make any movements, I picked up both her jacket and beanie in one hand and wrapped her in my other arm.  
Surprisingly she didn't reject my advance, but she didn’t necessarily look too comfortable in it either.  
“Aw, is the little buttercup upset? Here, what can I do to make it up to you?”

 

 

        She remained silent.  
My eyes searched the arcade, hoping to find something of interest for her.  
I noticed a few claw machines over in the corner and beckoned towards them.  
Looking down at her, I gently tried, “Why don’t I try to win you something from one of those claw machines? Would that help?”  
Laura was still and silent for a second before she looked up at me with the cutest eyes. She was still pouting and it took her a minute to actually say something, but when she did she silently peeped, “It might.”  
A gentle smile occupied my lips and I snaked my hand into hers, “Let’s get you something then, buttercup.”  
I couldn’t fight the tingle that ran down my spine upon interlocking our fingers, and I was certain our hand-holding had done something to Laura too because she had tightened her grip on my hand.

 

        I was the one practically dragging her across the arcade now, but eventually we made it.  
These were the first claw machines I’d ever seen that weren’t filled to the brim with fluffy animals.  
Two of them were full of jewelry, toys, and small stuffed animals, and the third was solely expensive things like video games and iPhones.  
Huh.  
“Alright, any preference?” I asked her as I handed her our jackets.  
She rested her head against one of the machines with the jewelry and stuffed animals, looking into it with a bored expression.  
Her eyes, however, gave way to her excitement.  
“Umm...not really. Anything.” she drawled.  
Despite her response, I followed her transfixed eyes.  
She was gazing at a small stuffed cupcake key chain.

Fitting.

 

 

        “Alrighty, cupcake. Wanna slide the card for me?”  
Laura pulled out the game card from her back pocket and swiped it across the designated area.  
“We only have one more swipe after this.” she noted, sliding the card back into her pocket.  
The claw sprung to life and I moved it around, trying to get a feel for it.  
“I only need one.” I cockily responded.  
I’d played these several times before when I was younger, but not really since then.  
However, there wasn’t a claw machine I’d ever played that I _hadn’t_ won something from and I didn’t expect to break that streak now.  
I positioned the claw around the little cupcake, adjusting it ever-so slightly to take hold of it perfectly.

 

 

        After a minute of adjusting, I finally pressed the red button on the stick, resulting in the claw dropping.  
The claw clamped around the cupcake loosely for a second before slowly bringing it back up.  
Laura’s face lit up next to me.  
As the claw began to inch towards the prize drop, however, the little cupcake began to slip.  
“Ah, come on!” I growled as it dropped a mere inches from the prize drop.  
Laura giggled. “It’s okay. You were close though!”  
I refused to leave without the little cupcake for...the little cupcake.

 

        “No, I’m going to get you that cupcake. Let me see the card.” I demanded softly.  
Laura handed me the card without question and I slid it, using the last of our credits.  
I put on my game face again, continuously repositioning and adjusting the claw until I believed there was no way in hell I could drop it again.  
Hands clamming and breath held, I pressed the red button.  
From my peripheral I could see Laura’s excited face watching hopefully.  
The claw dropped and yet again wrapped itself around the cupcake.

 

        To my dismay, the claw closed on top of the cupcake, not grasping it whatsoever.  
I let out a disgruntled sigh and slouched my head and shoulders.  
“Oh my God wait, no look!” Laura suddenly shrilled.  
I looked back up at the claw machine and was in disbelief.  
Somehow the claw had snagged onto the loop of the keychain, dragging the little cupcake to the prize hole and releasing it.  
Laura was so excited as she opened the prize drop and pulled out her prize.  
“Yay! This is exactly what I wanted too! Look how cute it is!” she held it up to her face, a gigantic smile on her lips.  
I grinned. “Now, do you forgive me for _totally_ kicking your ass?”

She snuggled the cupcake to her chest before responding, “It was beginners luck, I’m telling you! ...but yes. You’re forgiven for cheating.”  
I chuckled and ran a hand through my hair absentmindedly as I replied, “I’ll take it.”

 

        We were out of credits and I was fairly certain the arcade had to be closing soon, meaning she’d probably bid me adu pretty soon.  
But I didn’t want our night to end here.  
I didn’t want this to be the end of my story.  
Of _our_ story.  
“Now that we’ve burnt out all our energy at the arcade, why don’t we go get something to eat?” I suggested, nudging her gently with my elbow.  
Laura smiled softly at me. “Sure. Where to?”  
For some reason I was _really_ craving raw fish and sake and it was the only thing I could think of in this moment.

 

 

        “I know a really nice sushi place over at the Centre if you’re into it?” I proposed.  
“I _love_ sushi! I’m totally in!” her smile beaming once again.  
The more I saw the way her smile took over not only her face, but her entire body and the air surrounding her, the more I wished I never had to look away...the more I wanted to protect that smile, keep it gleaming for all of eternity.  
The more I wanted to be the only one to make her smile this way.

“Alright cutie. Let’s go.”

 

 

        Laura handed me her jacket so she could put hers back on and I did the same to mine.  
As I slipped my leather jacket back on, my phone plopped out of my pocket and onto the floor.  
We both bent over to pick it up, resulting in us bonking our heads together.  
“Ow!” we both cringed in unison.  
We both began to rub our heads where we had hit each other, chuckling slightly.  
“Sorry.” Laura laughed.  
I picked up my phone, rubbing my head still. “It’s fine, cupcake.” I grinned.

 

 

        The fall had caused my phone screen to light up, showing a vast amount of missed calls and text messages gone unanswered.  
“ _Someone’s_ being missed.” Laura teased.  
I sighed and unlocked my phone to my message centre.  
**Carmilla, I’ll be heading home in a few...are you still coming?** ****  
**Babe, give me a call.** ****  
**Hey...R U there?** ****  
**Carmilla if you’re still coming let me know.** ****  
**If you don’t respond I’m just going to assume you’re off having an amazing night with some other girl** ****  
**That’s fine, I guess.** ****  
**Just. Don’t call me tomorrow.** **  
** **Actually. Just. Don’t even call me.**

 

 

        All of a sudden a pain like a blow to the chest overcame me.  
She couldn’t have possibly been upset...I mean she was the one that originally canceled on _me_ .  
I simply found another outlet to occupy my time—that only seemed...fair.  
******_Ell…  
_** ******_Ell I'm sorry._**

  
“D-do you need to go?” Laura questioned.  
Her tone was worried but her eyes looked as if she had been a dog that had just gotten kicked.  
I locked my phone immediately, completely forgetting that she had been looking at my phone along with me.  
I ran my hands through my hair and breathed, “Wha—no, no. It’s nothing.”

Laura eyed me cautiously. “No if you have someone waiting for you I don’t want to hold-”  
“No. It’s fine. I don’t have anyone waiting for me. Let’s just...let’s go eat sushi. My treat.” I cut her off quickly.

 

 

        I felt terrible.  
I hadn’t wanted to upset Ell even further than I know I already did. I knew it killed her when I didn’t respond. I knew the thought of me out with another girl gnawed at her, especially when she knew for a fact that I was indeed out with another girl.  
But yet here I was, continuing on with the plans I had just made with Laura...pretending to care about Ell’s feelings.  
Pretending to care about Laura’s.  
There was no way she hadn’t read my screen, there was no way she hadn’t seen the words ‘babe’ and ‘with some other girl’.  
Judging from the tint of dismay in her eyes, there was no way she hadn’t seen them and no way she didn’t care.  
My own selfishness was becoming more and more evident and it sickened me.  
I felt rottened all the way down to my core.   
Yet that still wasn’t strong enough to get me to cancel our sushi plan and head home to my “technically” girlfriend.  
Fuck.

 

        “Um. Alright.” Laura silently responded.  
We made our way out of the arcade in silence.  
I didn’t know what to say, and I was certain I’d ruined my chances with her.  
And for some fucked up reason, that ate at me more than the fact that I knew Ell was at home waiting for me...crying for me.  
Hurting.  
Because of _me._

 

 

        From my peripheral, I noticed Laura looking at the little cupcake in her palm for a brief second before enclosing a fist around it and stuffing it into her jacket pocket.  
She sighed silently before looking at me.  
I looked down at her, forcing what I hoped to be a genuine smile.  
“What’s up, buttercup?” I tried, my deep voice giving away my disdain.  
Laura smiled, but it was different. . It wasn’t the same smile that I had grown to enjoy...not the one that brought life to her entire face.  
It was a weak, forced smile. And it physically hurt me to see it.

Laura locked our arms together softly before silently chiming, “Lead the way, Carm.”

 


End file.
